No – That isn’t some tricky baiting title to get you to read this blog….it really is a hippie and a banana.

(the banana wanted to be a trash can, but then the hippie found the banana right next to her dreads in the costume store – where else would you be if you were a banana costume – and the rest is history. Or science. Or psychology.)

I’ve been proven wrong.
I thought I hated Yankee Candles . All those insanely strong cinnamon chemical scents make my eyes burn.
I went to their outlet store once and walked out gasping for air.
I’m a baby. But in my defense, I have a particularly strong nose. It’s Olympic, my nose. I can’t run marathons but I can sniff out the faintest scent. I’ve been known to abandon cabs, walk out of stores, or beg for a new airplane seat if things get….stinky.
On the other side, some smells can make me swoon with happiness. Orange peels, brownies cooking, the lobby of the Four Seasons hotel, I could go on. And there are some scented candles that I adore.
But Yankee Candles? I just can’t. Or couldn’t.
Until I found this. “Beach Walk”
And it really is. Light, breezy. Doesn’t burn your nostrils. It’s nice.
Thought you should know.

11 years ago my husband and I met one of his cousins to go on a skiing trip. They brought their two-year old twin boys and 4-year-old girl – who was best buds with our 4-year-old girl.

Before that weekend we had decided that one kid was perfect for us. We loved our baby girl. She fulfilled every paternal and maternal need we had. We were a tight little unit of 3 and we were happy.

Then we went away and everything changed. I don’t know if it was the way the three siblings in the other family clung together, or if it was my husband telling funny stories about his sisters, or maybe it was the memory of how happy I was when my mother told me I was finally going to be a big sister at age 11. Whatever the trigger was, then and there we decided our little girl needed one other person in the world that would share part of her history.

One other person that could understand how frustrating her mother could be, or how nutty her father was, or why we have cake for breakfast on our birthdays. A partner. An ally. Someone who knew what the house that she grew up in smelled like on Saturday mornings. Someone she could be angry at and say mean things to and still be able to sit down to dinner with and laugh. Yep. We needed to have another baby.

I got pregnant a few weeks later.

10 years ago today, I woke up at 4am on a Saturday morning and went into labor. I was supposed to go pumpkin picking that day with my girl and one of my best friends who had come to visit. Instead, my husband and I left them to go to the hospital.

The weather was exactly like it is today, cold and crisp. We lived in Upstate New York and the leaves had changed late that year – so everything was shades of orange and red.

He came like a bullet – in about an hour once I started pushing. And like a bullet, there was some major damage afterwards (I’ll save that for another post).

Since then he’s been a whirl of energy, emotion, comedy and activity. He’s always moving. Even in his sleep he’s moving. He’s smart and quick and always late for something. He says things like,” I love my life.” and “I want to be a kid forever”. Then I go cry in a corner.

And he loves, no adores, his sister. Both are Scorpios, if you believe that sort of thing (I do), but on different ends of the spectrum. She’s easy to trust, warm, welcoming and ready for anything. He’s guarded, careful and likes his routines. Bookends of our family. Our perfect unit of 4.

So Happy Birthday to our little man. We had no idea how much we really needed you.

So I was traveling a bit last week and there’s two wonderful things that happen when I travel. First, I get to eat meals not prepared by me. And second, I get to read magazines. They could be gossip mags, fashion mags , political or social mags – I love them all.

There was an interesting article that got me thinking. No, not about the government shut down or Kim and Kanye’s baby – it was about lipstick.

Basically the article said that women in the workforce who wear red lipstick tend to feel more confident, powerful and smart. This in turn impacts how others perceive them.

Really? Lipstick? I wasn’t convinced. But then I stated looking at the other women on the train, who had apparently read the article.

So this week I’ve had some big meetings and decided to give it a try. I can’t do RED red… But I did a deep maroon instead. The new hot color called Oxblood. Which is hysterical because I’m a vegetarian. Not that it’s made of blood. Or ox. Anyhoo.

Look at me!

Do I look more powerful? Smarter? More capable? How about showered? At least I look clean right?

There’s more photos of your weekend that you can’t post on social media than you can….

You’re over 40 but spent a lot of quality time with 25 year olds…

6 women shared an apartment for an entire weekend with only wine and hard lemonade in the fridge (and cheese)…

This past weekend I was invited to join a girls weekend with the most hilarious women I’ve ever met. Did they always mean to be that hilarious? Nope. But they were and I was thankful.
We stayed in the most beautiful block in all of NYC. Everything you could ever want was there. Restaurants, bars, theater, you name it, we had it. So without incriminating anyone. ( I’ll say WE) here’s some of the shenanigans:

– we locked ourselves out of the apartment we rented within the hour. Like. Immediately.
– we stood on a street corner and burped so loud a nearby officer commented (we think he was impressed and would have totally hung out with us if he wasn’t on duty)
– we went down like a tall tree in front of Cooper Union. We tried to grab another person on the way down but failed. Only our pride was hurt.
– we found a happy hour that started at 4 on Friday and one that started at 3 on Saturday. Don’t worry, we drank in between too.
– while sitting on a stoop at 3am, we saw a young gal (probably 25), try and get on a Citi bike with stilettos and a very very short skirt. Because we cared so much we started yelling at her to “give it up and take a cab.”
– did I mention we sat on a stoop

Like some of the photos – there are stories I can’t share. And there are stories that you wouldn’t get – because like war, you had to go through it with us to understand it or find it amusing . What I’ll say is this – I’m really very happy I’m not 25, because those gals looked hungry and uncomfortable,but it was fun to be around them.

Thanks ladies (and thanks to the guest stars on Saturday night – the comedian and his VERY drunk 25 year old gal)!

This is my sons backpack.
It’s got his initials on it – so he knows it’s his.
He and I toiled over the shade of blue, I wanted a lighter sky blue – he loved this darker color.
I paid extra for shipping so he’d have it in time for school.
Inside the backpack is his homework, his books, his snack, his water, his musical instrument, and his jacket. He didn’t want to wear the jacket but I was convinced he’d need it at recess. I felt so good about remembering to give it to him. Yeah me!
Also inside is his itouch. He saved and collected every penny from his birthday and Christmas last year to buy one. He begged and pleaded with my husband and I to take it on the bus. I said ok . My husband said no. Conversations ensued.
An agreement was reached. A deal was made. But then I decided he could take it one last time before the new rules went into effect.
This is where the time goes.
Know where this backpack is? On the kitchen floor.
Know where my son is? On the bus to school.
That’s about right.